Fallout & Feelings (Sequel to "Matrimony Mayhem") (Carlos X Reader)
What started as a jokeβa fake marriage between you and Carlos to boost team moraleβhas spiraled wildly out of control. Now HQ thinks itβs real, HRβs scheduling coupleβs counseling, and the team is planning a surprise reception. But amidst the chaos, one problem grows harder to ignore: youβre starting to like being married to Carlos a little too much. And worse? He might feel the same.
Fake vows. Real feelings. Team-wide delusion. Welcome to the fallout.
Welcome to the Aftermath
There was no escaping it now.Β By the time Monday rolled around, the HQ announcement board had a digital banner that read: CONGRATS TO THE NEWLYWEDS! π right above a reminder about proper biohazard disposal. No one questioned it anymore. It had become part of the landscapeβright next to the βAll-Clearβ drill notifications and mission success tallies.
The breakroom TV kept glitching into a slideshow of wedding-themed stock photos with your and Carlosβs faces lazily Photoshopped onto them. You tried to shut it off. Twice. It rebooted itself both times. Someoneβlikely Jillβhad also programmed it to play βCanβt Help Falling in Loveβ every time the coffee machine was used, meaning an emotional Elvis serenade every fifteen minutes.
You could handle the Elvis soundtrack. You could even tolerate Leonβs theatrical interpretation of slow dancing with an invisible bouquet every time you entered the room. But when Rebecca compiled a βtraining retreatβ proposal that suspiciously resembled a honeymoon itineraryβcomplete with βcouple trust-building exercisesβ and a scenic lake cabin? Thatβs when it got real.
You could ignore the monogrammed towel set. You could tolerate HRβs weekly βMarital Wellnessβ check-insβeven when they made you and Carlos fill out compatibility quizzes that sounded suspiciously like dating app surveys. But the part that was really getting out of hand?
You were starting to like it. All of it. Carlos was⦠good at being fake married. Too good.
He saved the last dumpling for you without asking. He carried your gear even when you didnβt need help. He casually touched the small of your back like it was second nature. He called you βwifeβ with that relaxed drawl that made it sound less like a joke and more like a fact. And worst of all? He smiled like he meant it when he called you mi esposa.
What had started as a laugh was turning into⦠something else. The line between fake and real was blurring faster than you could process. Somewhere between the shared meals, the inside jokes, and the casual touches, your heart stopped remembering where the act ended and the truth began.
The Turning Point
It happened after a particularly rough mission. Long hours. A close call. You were scraped up, exhausted, and coming down from the adrenaline high with a crash. Blood on your sleeve, dirt under your nails, and a dull ringing in your ears from the last explosion.
Carlos sat next to you on the infirmary cot. Wordlessly, he reached for your hand and held it.Β Not for the bit. Not for the team. Just for you.Β His hand was warm and solid. Familiar. Steady.
βYou scared me today,β he murmured, eyes fixed on the floor.
Your throat tightened. βWasnβt planning on dying, if that helps.β
βStill,β he said again, softer this time. βI donβt think I could handle losing you. Even as a fake wife.β
You turned toward him slowly. There was something in his eyesβsomething raw and real. The fake wedding ring on your finger felt heavier than it shouldβve, like it suddenly meant more than plastic and poor decisions.
βCarlosβ¦ do you ever wish it wasnβt a joke?β
He went still. The kind of still that usually meant danger. Except this time, the only thing in danger was your heart.Β Instead of deflecting, instead of making it weird, he simply lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles.
βAll the time.β
Your pulse skipped a beat. You didnβt say anything else. You didnβt need to. You just looked at himβand he looked right back, like the rest of the world had gone quiet.
Operation: Team Chaos
The team was spiraling. Spectacularly.Β Jill had set up a Pinterest board labeled βReception Vibes.β It had categories. Subfolders. Color palettes. She was serious.
Leon was aggressively researching βBest Man speeches for emotionally stunted sharpshooters,β and had started leaving half-written cue cards in random places. One ended with: β...and if anyone objects to this union, speak now or shut up forever, because Carlos will shoot you.β
Chris looked five minutes away from a full bureaucratic collapse. His desk was buried in a mountain of paperwork heβd printed out to βfix this mess.β Every time someone asked what he was doing, he just muttered about protocol breaches and chain-of-command violations while shaking an HR handbook like it was gospel.
Rebecca? Oh, sheβd escalated. She drafted an HR-approved marital health form titled βLove on the Front Lines: A Wellness Journeyβ and began scheduling sessions like a wedding planner on a mission. Her latest suggestion was a βCommunication & Conflict Resolutionβ workshop. Mandatory.
There was talkβactual, serious talkβof a surprise wedding reception at the base cafeteria. Jill had a playlist. Leon was practicing a toast. Someone even requested cake options from the mess hall staff. You didnβt know whether to scream, laugh, or cry.
And amid the chaos, you caught yourself smiling. Because this wasnβt just about the prank anymore. Somewhere in the whirlwind of well-meaning lunacy, the team had started rooting for you. For real.
Carlos caught you on your way to the shooting range, eyebrows raised.
βSo, uhβ¦ do we fake-renew our vows or actually do it this time?β
You smiled despite yourself. βLetβs survive one more mission first.β
He nodded. βDeal. But next fruit basket? Iβm picking the contents. No more weird kiwi jam.β
βAgreed. And I get veto power on towel embroidery fonts.β
He grinned, and it felt different now. Real.














